


only teardrops

by somalester



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Break Up, Pre-Superfamily, Self-Destruction, fuck thanos honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somalester/pseuds/somalester
Summary: In Tony's dreams, Peter begs. And in real life, he's reunited with Steve Rogers after two years of silence.





	only teardrops

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out way longer than I originally planned and I have no idea what I'm doing the wait for Avengers 4 is killing me someone help

**Only Teardrops**

 

* * *

 

 

Tony stumbles onto Wakandan ground some mere days after the snap.

The stab wound in his side might or might not be infected; he hasn’t looked at it yet, and the pain faded into background noise ever since -

Nope, not going there.

A whole delegation awaits him, of what he presumes to be warriors of Wakanda, as well as those that are left of the Avengers. Plus a pissed-off looking raccoon.

Tony doesn’t even question that last one.

Nebula practically pushes him out of the plane when he hesitates, and the force is enough for him to stumble and fall on his knees.

Silence.

It’s confused, as far as the soldiers are concerned, and shocked as for the rest of the Avengers.

Bruce stakes a hesitant step forward. “Tony?”

Tony promptly passes out.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up in what must be a medical center, with machines attached to him that he doesn’t recognize, and architecture that doesn’t make sense to him either.

Dully, he notices that his wound has stopped hurting.

Feeling like his body somehow detached itself from his brain, he sits up. There’s no dizziness or pain, so he leaves his bed and kind of aimlessly wanders around the laboratory, until a young woman takes notice of him.

“What are you doing up?” She asks briskly, in a manner that reminds him of Pepper.

He shrugs.

She shakes her head. “You need to lie down. Come with me.”

She’s about Peter’s age, Tony realizes, and the next few hours pass in a painful blur of grief.

 

* * *

 

 

Shuri discharges him from the medbay a day later.

Rhodey visited him, as well as Bruce and Natasha.

He didn’t have much to say to them, so he mostly listened.

About those who hadn’t made it.

Vision. Wanda. T’Challa. James Buchanan Barnes.

He doesn’t really know how to feel about the last name. The bitterness Siberia has left in him is still as cold as it was back then. And, as it is, there’s too much pain inside his mind to be feeling anything else.

At least it gives him an inkling of Steve’s mood. (He tells himself he shouldn’t care, but he does. Too much.)

Tony tells Shuri he needs to repair his suit.

Which, by all means, isn’t a lie. But his actual goal is to get access to a lab, any lab, in which he can busy his hands and his mind. To get all he horrible memories out of his head.

It works, partly at least.

It takes a few minutes for him to find his way around, but after that, he’s completely immersed in his work. At the back of his mind, he cant ever forget that this new version of his suit has to be better, that much better than anything else he’s ever created.

This time, it has to be better than Thanos.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Bruce enters his borrowed lab.

“Tony?”

Tony looks up. He’s completely disassembled the nano-particle holder, determined to start from scratch and eradicate any possible malfunctions.

Bruce approaches him as though Tony’s a frightened animal he doesn’t want to spook.

“Don’t you want to come upstairs?”

Tony snorts. “To what? Join Cap in a motivational speech?”

Bruce ignores his remark. “It’s almost been two days, Tony.”

“So what?” Tony meant to snap, but instead it just comes out tired. “I need to repair the suit, Bruce. I barely got him to bleed last time, and I can’t... I _can’t_...”

 _Can’t let the kid down_ , is what he meant to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

“We need you up there,” Bruce says, softly.

This time, Tony manages to get the bitterness into his voice. “Yeah, sure. Tell them I’ll miss the family get-together.”

Bruce flinches, and Tony remembers the hurt and confused look on his face when he’d been told that the Avengers had broken up. The knowledge that this team had probably been his only safety net almost makes Tony reconsider. Almost.

“The Other Guy still won’t listen to me,” Bruce murmurs.

Tony raises his eyebrows.

“He refused to come out, even when I told him I’d lose the fight without him.” He laughs, a bitter laugh, one of those Tony loathes to hear from him. “And I did. We all did.” He shakes his head. “What I’m trying to say is, we don’t have time for whatever thing happened between you all."

The thing is, Tony doesn’t even know if he’s even avoiding Steve and his team. Or if repairing his suit is the only hing he knows how to do anymore.

“You should leave,” he tells Bruce, not unkindly.

His face falls, but he does as Tony requested.

Tony goes back to working on his suit, but his thoughts are drifting, and he can’t stop it.

Two days.

It doesn’t mean anything, really, he’s done workshop marathons more often than he was able to count. But now, Peter depends on him. The longer he takes, the longer Peter will be -

He drops the tools he’s holding and clenches his hands into fists.

 

* * *

 

 

Once upon a time, things were different.

The team was still a team. Bucky had found his death fighting Redskull. Steve still had a place to call home. Him and Tony were still lovers.

It’s thirty minutes past midnight when he gets woken up by nightmares again.

The room Okoye has provided him with is big and spacious, with a bed much more comfortable than anything he’s had in the past two years.

He wants it all back.

Not the run-down motel rooms, or the constant hiding.

He wants his teammates back; his _friends_.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye before Bucky had fallen to the ground. Again.

Wanda and Sam went without him even being there.

As he leaves him room and heads for the kitchen, he realizes he hasn’t felt this lonely since he woke up in a completely different century.

He helps himself to a cold glass of water and stands in front of the ceiling to floor windows.

The corpses of whatever creatures attacked them are still laying scattered across the fields.

They lost. And it’s still too overwhelming, too unreal for Steve to come to terms with.

After a few minutes, he hears footsteps behind him.

He turns around.

Tony’s standing in the doorway, his entire body frozen the second he meets Steve’s eyes.

Ever since they separated in Siberia, Steve’s only seen him once: when he stumbled out of that alien ship and lost consciousness. Bleeding out on the ground.

He knows Tony’s been discharged, but for the past three days, the billionaire was holed up in the lab he’s been provided with. It’s so achingly familiar that it takes every ounce of his self control not to hurry over and steady Tony’s exhausted frame.

Because they aren’t like that. (Not anymore.)

Instead, Steve settles for what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Hey Tony.”

Tony stares at him, a myriad of different emotions crossing his face.

Steve is ashamed to admit he wasn’t able to recognize any of them.

Finally, Tony pushes his shoulders back and cold determination bleeds into his expression.

“Cap.” With an almost mockingly polite nod, Tony walks past him, to the cupboards.

Steve watches him wander around in the kitchen, and hates the fact that he knows all too well what Tony’s searching for. He’s supposed to be over this.

(Hell, _they’re_ supposed to be over.)

“Tony,” he says lowly, as peacefully as he can manage. “You should drink some water and go to sleep.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “I hate to say it, but you’re not exactly setting a shiny example here.”

Steve sighs. “I also wasn’t that baldy injured.”

It feels like all the arguments they had at the beginning of their relationship, when Tony hadn’t trusted him that much yet, and when Steve hadn’t known how to handle Tony’s bad days.

Tony sighs, exasperated. (Just like he used to.) “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we have a giant purple dickhead to kill. The sooner I get that suit to work the better.”

And, yeah, it’s not like they can’t ignore all the elephants in the room, but Steve feels bone-deep tired when remembered of the task before them. And all he wants, even if for a little while, is rest. For himself as well as his team.

“Go to sleep, Tony,” he says softly. “We don’t have any leads yet. There will still be time to finish your suit after you’ve rested.”

But Tony shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Steve knows Tony’s probably lost people too. But the haunted look in his eyes tells of more than that.

Steve wants to ask, but he’s not sure he’s in the position to do so anymore.

He can’t help himself. “Tony -“

“Don’t.” Tony cuts him off, bitter and cold.

Then he leaves, and Steve knows he doesn’t really know Tony anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

In Tony’s dreams, Peter begs.

_Sir, please. I don’t want to go._

His voice is small and frantic, his young body trembling in fear as his body dissolves right under Tony’s hands, who can’t do anything but stare and weep.

 _Why didn’t you save me?_ , the voice continues on, even though Peter is long gone.

_Your fault_

_Your fault._

_Your fault!_

The mantra’s still stuck in his head when he finally manages to wake himself up.

He barely makes it out of his bed and down the hall to the bathroom, where he spends the next few minutes retching up what little he’d eaten. Cursing the fact that he listened to Steve’s request and went to bed.

He doesn’t feel rested. In fact, he feels even worse than before.

As soon as he’s relatively sure his stomach won’t start rebelling again, he heads for the lab.

Natasha catches him in the stairwell.

“Did you sleep?”, she asks briskly.

Tony nods and doesn’t elaborate.

“Good,” she says. “We need you for a strategy meeting.”

In typical Natasha-fashion, that leaves little room for argument, but Tony’s too exhausted to try anyhow.

They must make a ridiculous picture, Tony thinks upon entering the conference room.

Steve, Natasha, Bruce and Rhodey all look about as battered as Tony feels. Okoye and Shuri are both dressed in formal Wakandan wear; they appear almost too put together. In the back, the raccoon is sitting on Thor’s shoulder. Nebula is next to them, and her eyes haven’t lost any of that murderous glint.

Actually, Tony muses, he fits right in.

Steve steps forward. Apparently, he’s already made himself Captain of their new group of misfit losers, and Tony doesn’t even have it in him to feel irritated, like might have before.

“I think,” he begins, voice laden with significance, “that we’re all in agreement here to not give up this fight.”

Tony snorts. T _hat’s putting it mildly_ , he thinks, knowing he’d go face Thanos by himself if necessary.

“Do we have an idea where he might’ve gone?”

“Yep,” Tony pipes up. “He told the wizard he’d be on his balcony, whatever that means.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “You were on his planet, right?”

_Titan._

_“We’re bringing the fight to him” He’d said, knowing what kind of danger he would be putting the kid in._

_Your faul-_

“Tony?”

Rhodey gently nudged him out of his thoughts. Tony came to with the whole room staring at him expectantly.

Finally, Nebula rolled her eyes and spoke up.

“Yes we were. And no, his so called balcony can’t be there. The whole planet is a wasteland.”

Steve nodded. “So we need a plan to find him.”

“Or lure him out,” the raccoon says grimly.

(Tony has the increasing suspicion that it had a problem with violent tendencies.)

“Before that, we need a plan of attack,” Steve said.

_“I have a plan: attack,” Tony’d said, in a whole different life._

“Yeah, about that,” Tony says briskly. “I’m about to finish my new suit, and it’ll be so pumped up with nano-tech the purple asshole won’t even know what hit him. So, if you’ll excuse me?”

Steve frowns at him - of course he does, how dare Tony disrespect his authority by leaving the meeting early - but Tony can’t stay in this room for a minute longer. The talks of _strategy_ and _plans_ , it makes him feel nauseous. He knows, waiting for the right opportunity is the smart move, but every fiber in him is yelling at him to get Peter back and suddenly, once again, he knows all too well how Quill must’ve felt.

(What if, _huh,_ what if you didn’t make that first punch in Siberia, maybe none of this would’ve happened.)

(Because the Avengers could’ve been a united front, instead of scattered across a few planets.)

_(“A house divided against itself cannot stand.”)_

(And boy did they fall.)

He barely manages to shut the door of the lab behind him before his breaths quicken and he sinks to the ground, running short on oxygen.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve watches Tony leave, even though the worry in his chest tells him to follow. Even when they disagreed during their times on the Avengers, Tony never left meetings like that. 

Nebula only furthers his worry by saying, “Let him go. He’s lost a lot.”

As soon as he sees fit, Steve dismisses his new team (if one could even call it a team) and goes after Tony. 

He’s relieved the lab doesn’t have a lock, or he probably wouldn’t have seen him for at least another few days.

He’s not so relieved when he actually enters.

Tony’s standing next to his workbench. His hands are clinging tightly to its edges, and Steve can see him breathing shallowly.

He knows it’s Tony’s anxiety, but he’s not sure how to address it. Not anymore.

“We discussed if we should relocate to the compound,” Steve says, carefully testing the waters. “You might be able to work more efficiently there.”

“I told you, I’m almost done.” Tony’s words are short and clipped. 

“We agreed that for most of us it would be counterproductive to go back to America, but if you and Rhodey wanted to -“

“I said no, Steve!” Tony interrupts him loudly, his eyes are wide and frantic. 

“Okay,” Steve agrees easily.

Tony turns away from him, forcing a controlled breath through his lungs.

Steve knows he shouldn’t, but Bucky’s been taken from him, and he’s not about to let Tony go, too. “Are you okay?”

Tony laughs. That horrible, self-deprecating laugh he’s learned to hate. “Oh Cap, I’ve never been better.”

Steve takes a step forward, but Tony whips around so fast it makes him stop dead in his tracks.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” There are unshed tears in his eyes, the kind Tony would never let fall. “We lost. I fucked up, it’s my fault the kid’s gone and I...” His voice breaks, and he trailed off.

Steve frowns. “The kid?”

Tony falters for a moment. (He probably hadn’t meant to say that.) 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony says, but Steve can tell that it does. Perhaps more so than anything else.

“Tony,” he murmurs gently. “Let me help you.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Please,” Steve pleads, with every ounce of desperation he’s feeling. “You’re about to have an anxiety attack.”

Tony chuckles dryly. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I already had one, it’s just coming back for a bonus round.”

“Tony -“

“Goddamnit Steve!” Tony exclaims. He let’s go of the table and walks towards Steve, until they’re a mere meter apart. “We haven’t seen each other in two years! So stop pretending to care!”

“I do care about you,” Steve says quietly.

Tony snorts. “Yeah sure. But don’t worry, I’ll be there when you need me to fight.”

Steve knows Tony is trying to push him away. 

He’s ashamed to admit to himself that it works. 

“If you change your mind,” Steve says tiredly. “You know where to find me.”

Tony watches him with his hands clenched to fists as he turns around and leaves.

Later, Steve is in the training room they’ve been provided with, wondering where exactly he and Tony went so irrevocably wrong. Was it him protecting Bucky? Was it Siberia? Or those two years they didn’t even talk to each other?

He used to wonder what he would do different, were he able to go back. 

But he can’t, and as of now, the present is too devastating to dwell in the past.

Bucky’s gone, as well as Wanda and Sam. The largest part of the team he’s been with for the past years is gone. 

And Tony won’t even talk to him.

The loneliness is threatening to take him under.

He refuses to let it.

As long as the fight isn’t over, he can’t let it.

He clung to that soldier attitude when Bucky fell, and he’s doing it now.

But still, he can’t help but wish for Tony’s company. He can’t help but dwell in their old memories. Memories of Tony’s smooth skin under his fingers, his soft moans, the way he melted under Steve’s touches. He’s always found Tony exceptionally beautiful, but in these moments, whenever they made love, he almost seemed divine to him. 

Steve knows Tony is hurting as much as he is. 

But he doesn’t know how to mend the miles-deep gap between them.

 

* * *

 

 

The anxiety attacks leave Tony even more tired than he already felt before. 

Deep down, he wishes Steve had stayed, but he knows he doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself. (Which is probably his life’s motto at this point.)

He tries to get back to finishing his suit, but his hands won’t stop shaking and his head won’t stop replaying his conversation with the Captain. 

_“... So stop pretending to care!”_

_“I do care about you.”_

Figures Steve would say that, Tony thinks wryly. Ever the good team leader. 

(His lungs constrict, thinking about how he brushed Steve off. But really, what was he supposed to do, after what they’d done to themselves?)

(He still hears his mother screaming. He still feels Barnes’ face beneath his fists. He still sees Steve hovering above him, his shield raised.)

“Tony?”

Tony flinches.

“Sorry.” It’s Bruce, approaching him carefully. 

Tony waves his hand. “It’s fine. I was just...”

Bruce smiles at him. It’s shallow, exhausted. “Working on your suit?”

Tony nods, grateful for the conversation prompt. “Yeah. I’ve been upgrading the self-regeneration mechanism.”

“It’s impressive,” Bruce says. “The whole suit, I mean.”

“Thanks,” Tony replies. He appreciates Bruce’s opinion, like he always has, but in the position they’re in, it feels hollow and insignificant.

Bruce leans against his workbench. “I’ve seen Steve head to the training room earlier.” He watches Tony cautiously. “He seemed distressed.”

Tony turns to stare at his triangular nanotechnology-holder. 

“Is everything okay between you?”

Tony snorts. “Why, haven’t you caught up with the Civil War yet?”

Bruce frowns. “What?”

“That’s what the media called it.” Tony sighs. “It’s stupid, if you ask me. Wasn’t so much of a civil war than a personal little dispute between Cap and me.”

“What happened?” Bruce sounds unbelieving. As if Tony’s story is completely ridiculous. 

And, well, for someone who’s last seen them during the mess with Ultron, when Steve still trusted him, even after he’s made mistakes... It probably is hard to believe, Tony guesses. (And wishes it wasn’t so easy to believe for himself.)

Tony gives him a run-down of the Accords, and ends with; 

“I found out Barnes killed my parents, and Steve’s known the whole time. I tried to kill Barnes.” He smiles wryly. “Kind of ruined all the trust we might’ve had.”

He expects for Bruce to blame him, ask him why he hadn’t worked harder to keep the Rogue Avengers out of Ross’ grasp, ask him why he’d resorted to violence in the first place.

Instead, Bruce just looks at him, and he’s not judging. “Are you okay?”

Tony stares at him. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Bruce repeats patiently. “I know you two were... close.”

Tony has to close his eyes for a second, push the memories away. 

Memories of evenings and nights spent together. Memories of Steve looking at him with such tenderness, that -

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. We have bigger things to worry about.”

And they do. 

Tony has a kid to save. 

As well as billions of other people.

Bruce smiles. “I know. But we’re still here for you, you know.”

Tony feels like crying. 

Which is ridiculous. He’s been dealing with this on his own for more than two years, and he’s ought to be over it by now. 

“Thanks Bruce,” he says tightly. 

They work on the suit together. It’s the best suit Tony’s ever had, and they both know it.

But Tony also knows it won’t be enough to kill Thanos. He’s known it the first time he assembled his nano suit, and he knows it now.

He doesn’t say that to Bruce; the poor guy has more than enough on his plate. Tony tells him to get some rest and forget about him and Steve. They’ll still be able to work together, and that’s all that matters.

Yeah, that’s what Tony tells Bruce. 

The constricting feeling in his chest whenever he thinks of Steve begs to differ. 

Tony does his best to ignore it, push it - and Steve - away, because Steve deserves better than him and all his issues.

(But that’s also an old Stark tradition. Pretending not to care. And it’s never worked out well.)

 

* * *

 

 

They all work tirelessly to come up with a plan.

Nebula and Thor especially, because they all encountered Thanos before. Unfortunately, they all agree that it’s more plausible for Thanos to find them, not the other way around.

It goes on for almost a week until they finally decide they will try to draw Thanos out.

Meanwhile, the world has fallen into chaos that nobody’s ever seen before. The death toll precedes half of the population. 

Some start calling for the Avengers, but perhaps for the first time ever, the Avengers can’t respond.

(The atmosphere in Wakanda stays as tense and hopeless as it was.)

 

* * *

 

 

Steve hasn’t seen Tony since he followed him down to the lab.

It’s been about six days, and Steve knows Tony’s had times when he went off the radar for even longer. 

It shouldn’t bother Steve, especially because he spent two years without even so much as a word to Tony. But it kind of does anyway, and he can’t help it.

It gets to the point that the others notice.

Natasha as the very first; she’s learned to read Steve better than he’s comfortable with. 

They’re sitting in the common area, the TV is playing lowly in the background, but most of them are staring out of the window anyway. 

“What’s going on?” She asks. 

Steve shrugs. “Thanos completely dropped off the radar. I don’t like it.”

She only raises her eyebrows, and Steve knows she doesn’t believe him. 

But she also doesn’t need to know about every last aspect of his relationship with Tony, and hence, he doesn’t elaborate.

He also doesn’t need to, because in that moment, the figure of his worries enters the room with quick and erratic steps that promise no good news. 

Everyone stares at him, but Tony only picks up the remote and changes the TV channel.

It’s secretary Ross, on the news.

Steve clenches his jaw. He’s seldom let himself hate people on principle, but in Ross he sees everything that tore his team apart. 

(A part of his brain wonders why so many of their team had to go, and yet, that man was still alive, but he quickly shushes it. It’s not going to do them any good, thinking like this, he knows that.)

Meanwhile, Ross is talking on the screen, blissfully unaware of Steve’s inner struggle. 

“The world is facing a bigger threat than ever before, and we have yet to see the Avengers do something about it.”

The news host regards Ross with mild interest. “Do you think this behavior is incriminating, considering they are part of the United Nations?”

“Certainly, yes. It’s time the public recognizes them for what they really are. A security risk, not a savior.”

Abruptly, Colonel Rhodes stands up to turn the TV off. 

“We shouldn’t listen to this,” he says quietly.

Tony just shakes his head. “He has no right to say that. To _any_ of you.”

He glances at where Steve and Natasha are sitting on the couch, but doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes. 

Natasha sighs. “We have bigger problems than him. We can deal with that when we’ve dealt with Thanos.”

But Tony shakes his head again, more insistent now, and he continues talking as if he hasn’t even heard her. “I’m going to go back to Washington and then I’m going to make him stop saying that, he doesn’t even have any idea how hard we’ve been trying -“

“Tony.” Rhodey gently places a hand on his shoulder.

Tony blinks at him, almost owlishly.

“As far as Ross knows, you’re still missing. Let me go talk to him.”

“He won’t listen to you,” Tony snaps. “This is _my_ mess, so I’m going to clean it up. End of discussion.”

Rhodey sighs, probably knowing as well as anyone else in the room that there was no arguing with Tony in that state. “Fine. But at least let me come with you.”

Tony shrugs. “Knock yourself out.”

The two leave the room, leaving the rest of them in a stupefied state. 

“What was _that_?” Rocket asks distastefully.

“Yeah,” Bruce adds, concerned. “Since when does Tony care about Ross’ opinion?”

Silently, Steve asks himself the same question. He knows Tony accepted the accords because he wanted accountability to his actions, not because he held any particular sympathies for the secretary. But he’s never really thought about how it must’ve been for Tony, to work with a man who thought of him as nothing better than a vigilante with a staggering death toll on his account.

Suddenly, Tony’s insistence to go back to Washington seemed a lot more concerning to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Con: He would know. As soon as he lands in Washington, he would know whether Pepper lived or died. Whether he at least still has his best friend.

Pro: His bar at the compound was stacked up. Stacked up well.

Tony doesn’t think the alcohol outweighs the cons of this trip. Which is a first in a long, long time. 

Throughout he whole flight, he’s aware of Rhodey’s worried glances, but forbids himself from returning them. He’s right after all; this is _his_ mess, he’s been the one to start working with Ross, and he’s also been the one to continuously go against his orders, thus making the secretary like them even less.

Settling it by himself is the least he can do for the team; a team that’s just barely managing to work together again. 

His meeting with Ross is scheduled for the afternoon, and they arrive midday, giving them some time to settle back into the compound.

It feels like years since he’s last seen it.

(It’s only been a few weeks. Less than Tony sometimes left it to go on meetings.)

Rhodey offers to search the place for Pepper.

Tony declines. He knows he has to do this by himself. 

He knows he could ask FRIDAY about Pepper’s status, but it doesn’t feel right. Especially since he knows Pepper always hated it whenever he depended on his tech more than he needed to. 

At first, he stands in the entrance hall of the Compound, not quite sure where to start searching. Then, he remembers that The Snap occurred during midday in Wakanda, meaning late morning in Washington.

His heart sinks. 

Somehow, in his heart, he already knows. 

He doesn’t need to climb the stairs to the second floor. 

He doesn’t need to walk down the hallway and open the door to her office. 

He doesn’t need to see the pile of ashes on the chair and sink onto his knees with tears running down his cheeks.

He does so anyway, because he owes her to do at least that. 

Rhodey finds him like that about half an hour later.

He drops to the ground next to him, wraps his arms around Tony’s shaking frame and holds him. For as long as it takes for his panic attack to fade. 

(Almost an hour.)

(And after that, they have to hurry to get to their meeting with Ross.)

It doesn’t go well. 

Of course it doesn’t.

At first, there’s the _Where have you been, we needed you here to protect us!_ and Tony nearly gags because _yes, why wasn’t I here, why did I drag the kid onto some godforsaken planet -_  

Then, Ross asks Rhodey where the Rogue Avengers are. Tony’s our of the loop on this one, knows something’s happened while he was away, and has to stay silent. Rhodey says he doesn’t know, that they left again, and Ross informs him if the fact that there will be consequences for him to face.

Ross wants Tony to stay in Washington and help with the chaos. Tony says he needs to think about it, and suddenly there are consequences for him too, should he make the wrong decision. 

They get Rhodey off the hook by promising Ross that he’ll be there to keep the citizens in line. It’s a lie, and they both know it, but by now, they’re simply trying to get back to the compound in peace. 

And when they finally get to go, Tony does the one thing he can do best: get drunk.

 

* * *

 

Steve paces.

Walking from one corner of the room to the other, and back.

Natasha isn’t impressed.

She’s tapping away on the communication device she’s been provided with, keeping tabs on how the world is dealing with the crisis, and says “Be glad I’ve been trained to ignore my surroundings if I need to. Otherwise you’d be pretty annoying right now.”

“I don’t like this,” Steve responds.

“Obviously,” she says. “What’s going on between you and Tony, anyway?”

Well, Steve would feel better knowing that too.

“I’m worried about him,” is what he says instead. “He’s different.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Of course he is. It’s been two years.”

Steve flinches. It shouldn’t hurt that much, to be reminded, but it does. 

“No. He’s... He’s not well. I know that. He shouldn’t be up there in Washington by himself.”

She squints at him. “He’s got Rhodey. What makes you think you being there would change anything?”

_Because he used to love me, once. And I think I still love him._

Bruce enters the room, just as he responds, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going after him.”

“Oh thank God,” Bruce exclaims. “I don’t like him doing this all by himself. 

Natasha just shakes her head.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve arrives just as the sun is beginning to set in Washington. 

He hasn’t lived in the Compound for long before the Accords, but it still feels like coming home. 

This time, he knows Tony will be there too, instead of missing and probably dead.

It makes his heart slam in his chest. 

Partly, because he doesn’t know what state he’ll find Tony in.

Partly, because he doesn’t know if Tony will reject him.

The Colonel greets him at the door. He doesn’t look angry or surprised. Just tired, if anything.

“He’s downstairs, won’t let me in,” he says, and lets Steve pass. 

Steve decides to not dwell on the fact that they’re apparently that obvious.

Tony’s standing in his workshop, waving the empty glass in his hands at one of his robots when Steve enters.

“I said _whiskey_ you _idiot_ , why do you keep bringing me motor oil, I swear to god, one of these days I’m gonna donate you to the nearest High-School.”

The robot whirrs, in what almost sounds like distress.

Steve tentatively steps closer. “Tony?”

Tony flinches and drops his glass. Then he stares at the broken pieces. 

“Dummy,” he says after a few seconds. “Go clean that up.”

The bots beeps at him and rolls away.

Tony sighs and vaguely gestures at the mess on the floor. “I built him, would you believe that? And all he’s good for is mopping up glass. No wonder Howard didn’t...” He trails off, frowning, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. 

“You’re drunk,” Steve realizes, deliberately going over his comment on Howard. (He doubts Tony would appreciate a conversation about his father right now.)

Tony scoffs. “Barely. I can do better.”

“I’m aware.” Steve sighs. It all seemed so easy on his way here; all he wanted was to make sure Tony wouldn’t need to be alone. And now, he doesn’t know what to say. As seems to be norm around Tony these days. 

Dummy comes back, clutching a broom firmly in his claw. Then he starts to mop the broken pieces into a pile.

Steve wants to ask Tony if he’s okay, but that didn’t work out so well last time.

“Do you want some company?” He asks instead.

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Didn’t pick you for the type to go get some from their ex.“

That makes Steve feel uncomfortably warm. The mention makes him remember their nights spent in bed, the way Tony felt under him, around him, the sound of the little gasps he’d make.

“I meant to talk, Tony.”

“Talking sucks,” Tony says.

“You’re drunk,” Steve responds gently. “And we haven’t gotten along well the past couple of days.”

“I’m not as drunk as I could be.” Tony waves a finger at him. “I can still talk, see?”

The fact that that actually is a reason to believe Tony was still relatively in control of himself probably should worry Steve more than it does; as it is, he’s just glad Tony isn’t already past that stage. 

But he knows Tony will undoubtedly get there if he leaves him alone in the workshop.

“Will you come upstairs?” He asks softly.

Tony sighs. “Fine. Bed’s better than the couch.”

His words are only slightly slurred, but slurred nonetheless. 

And Steve hates it, that Tony thinks he’s come here only for sex, hates that Tony wouldn’t even be talking to him if he was sober. 

(At that point, he was still dead set on making Tony go to sleep, then go do that himself, _in a different room._ Because they’re not lovers anymore. Present Steve knows that. Future Steve, well...)

Tony doesn’t want to sleep. 

Steve doesn’t even know why he’s so unprepared for that, because it clearly shouldn’t be a surprise. 

They’re standing in the hallway, and Steve’s glad Rhodey isn’t there to listen to them.

“I can’t sleep,” Tony says matter-of-factly. “I’ll just hear him begging again.”

“Who?” Steve asks, chest tight.

But Tony shakes his head. “Didn’t I say talking sucks?”

And then he kisses Steve, just like that. 

They fit right together, as if the last two years never happened. Steve responds almost instinctively, his lips part for Tony’s tongue when he licks at Steve’s lips, and it takes a few seconds too long for him to remember himself. 

When he does, he pushes Tony away, but he does it as gently as he can. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Oh come on, _Captain_. You can’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it.”

The thing is, Tony’s right. The other thing is, Steve knows the alcohol lowers his inhibitions and lets him self-destruct. 

He misses Tony. He misses him too much, and he knows this might be his only chance.

(Also, a foolish part of him is hoping they’ll be able to reconcile after this.)

Tony presses himself against him, his lips barely touching the skin of his neck. 

Steve’s hands settle on Tony’s hips. 

It shouldn’t be this easy, but it is. 

Their lips meet for another kiss, and this time, Steve doesn’t push Tony away. He pulls him closer, until he can feel Tony’s body heat through his clothes.

Tony gasps - _“Steve!”_ \- and Steve’s done for. 

They stumble back into Tony’s bedroom; Steve as much pushing Tony as Tony is pulling Steve. 

Steve presses Tony into the sheets underneath him, and Tony goes willingly, yields to Steve’s touch with so much self-evidence it makes his heart clench.

(As if they never fought.)

Steve handles him gently, looks into his eyes for confirmation before removing his clothes, kisses him all the way through prep, runs a soothing hand along Tony’s side.

And Tony melts under his fingers.

 

* * *

 

 

When Tony wakes up, Steve’s gone.

Also, his entire body feels like he’s run a mile.

For a second, his mind can’t catch up, and really, he should have appreciated that second more, because when everything comes rushing back, he has the strong urge to jump out of the window right then and there. 

Right, so last night happened. 

Tony groans. 

Before Afghanistan, he was used to waking up to one scandal more each day. 

But letting his ex fuck him after two years of silence? That’s a new low, even for him. 

He contemplates just hiding in his room and have Rhodey make the Captain leave, but his pride refuses, so after half an hour of contemplation, he finally drags himself into a standing position.

That’s when he notices he’s still naked.

Oh, and his ass hurts. 

Great. 

Tony puts on some jeans and a Black Sabbath shirt, and wearily makes his way down to the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone before he’s had the chance to grab some coffee.

But, Steve’s in the kitchen.

(Of course.)

Steve freezes when Tony walks in. 

“Good morning,” Tony says with the practiced ease of one too many one-night stands.

“Good morning,” Steve replies quietly, without looking at him.

Tony takes a deep breath, and tries not to panic. 

The regret is practically radiating from Steve’s body. 

Tony refuses to back down and leave, walking across the room to get his coffee. While the machine hums, preparing his drink, he desperately tried to think of a way to defuse the thick silence that had settled in the room. 

A few decades ago, he’d scold Steve for making the situation awkward when it didn’t have to be. 

But he’s not that young, and Steve means so much more to him than a short fling.

By the time his cup is filled with steaming coffee, he’s fidgeting with the need to get out of the room.

His feet carry him to the workshop almost on autopilot. 

“Lockdown, FRIDAY,” he says quietly.

“If you think that’s wise,” his AI replies briskly.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Tony warns her. “You didn’t have sex with someone who probably hates you now.”

“And who’s decision was that?” FRIDAY asks. 

Tony scowls. “Shut up.”

(Sometimes he wonders if programming her to be sassy was a good idea. Then he remembers, at the time he thought he needed someone like that - to make sure he would be stopped when self-destructing too much. A horribly inconvenient conclusion, really.)

Tony sits down on a stool next to his workbench.

He’s abandoned some of his old ideas here, some of which were just tinkering, some real weapons he’d meant to include in his suit. 

He knows it’d probably be better for him to get to work, and distract himself, but his hands won’t really move towards it.

He starts drinking his coffee and stares at his scattered tools.

Tony has fucked up plenty of times in his life.

Hell, this isn’t even his worst disaster, technically speaking.

But this time, it feels different.

Because after Siberia, there was no doubt in his mind he and Steve were over. And now, now, with the way Steve had avoided his eyes...

Tony lost his slim chance of friendship too. 

“Dummy,” he says hollowly.

The bots whirrs towards him, bumps his claw into Tony’s leg, almost too much like in concern. 

“Get me a drink. Some actual whiskey, this time.”

Dummy rolls away, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil of his maker. 

He should’ve known better than to get drunk. 

And now, Steve and him aren’t talking anymore.

Tony missed him, he missed him too much, and now he’s paying the price, fraying the tentative bond that Steve initiated after Tony’d landed in Wakanda. 

He’s lost even more than Thanos took from him. He’d already lost his family...

 _(I don’t wanna go, Sir please...)_  

(Tony forces Peter’s voice out of his head for now, and consequently feels even worse.)

... and now, he’s lost the man who was once his best friend, too.

His heart clenches painfully, ripping through the regret and self-hate like a knife. 

Dummy returns, this time thankfully with the right bottle in his claw. 

“Good job, buddy,” Tony says hollowly. 

Dummy beeps at him, and Tony tells him to go away.

(His bot’s unassuming happiness makes everything even worse.)

He hasn’t taken a shower yet. 

He can still feel the dampness of his skin, Steve’s touch on his thighs, the cold lube inside of him.

He’s ashamed to admit how easy it was. How effortlessly he let Steve’s touch guide him, how he trusted him - in that moment - without being afraid.

He’s ashamed to admit how it all felt so familiar he’d let himself go.

For someone who now regretted it. 

Slowly, the alcohol entering his system does its trick. Tony feels it settle warm in his stomach, feels it travel through his body, make his limbs lighter and his head disconnect from his body. 

This time, there’s no Steve to stop him. 

When the bottle Dummy gave him is empty, it takes him a while five seconds to remember why.

Because he’s drinking.

Because Steve isn’t talking to him anymore.

Yeah.

That warrants another bottle. Probably. Right? Definitely.

And once that’s empty too, Tony’s too out of it to care. 

He recognizes FRIDAY threatening to end Lockdown Protocol on her own behalf, which just seems ridiculously funny to him; he’d created her after all, who was she to abolish protocols he’d put in place?

He tries to answer her, or at least he thinks he does, but it proves to be too much effort, and he gives up.

(About half an hour after that, FRIDAY makes good on her promise and opens the workshop.)

Rhodey comes to visit him some time later - how much exactly Tony can’t tell - and he’s not pleased at the state he finds Tony in. 

Which is stupid, Tony thinks, since the state he’s in now definitely hurts less than being sober.

Rhodey disagrees. 

“You have to get out of here and sober up.”

“Noooo,” Tony protests. “D’nt wanna see St’ve.”

Rhodey sighs. “I know it’s not been easy since Siberia, but we have to be able to be be a team now. And you need to sober up.”

“No,” Tony repeats, more insistently this time. “Fucked up. Can’t see St’ve.”

“And why is that?”

Rhodey sounds like he’s only indulging Tony, which is ridiculous, since his situation does pose a dire need to isolate himself. Preferably forever.

“Las’ night,” Tony slurs, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him he ought to stay quiet about that. 

(Fuck that voice. It’s annoying anyway.)

Rhodey goes very still. “Last night?”

“Yep.” Tony nods solemnly. “Shoulda seen the look ‘n his face this morning.”

“Did you...?”

“Yep,” Tony says again. “Prob’ly shoulda listened when he said we shouldn’.”

“Oh Tony.” 

Said man fails to assign Rhodey’s tone of voice a proper emotion, but figures it doesn’t matter anyway, since his life is shit at this point anyway. 

Now that he’s explained what’s going on, he expects Rhodey to get along with his plan of never, ever leaving the workshop again, but the man now seems even more insistent.

Which is quite annoying, since the alcohol is now making him sleepy. 

In the end, Rhodey hauls him bodily up the stairs, and since Tony’s not really in control of his limbs, he can’t put up much of a fight.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve feels like he’s been glued to the kitchen chair. 

He hasn’t moved for at least an hour, ever since Tony got his coffee and left. 

He knows he has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s unable to look Tony in the eyes, knowing he’d screwed up whatever feeble hope there had been for them. 

Christ, Tony hadn’t even been sober.

His chest feels tight; guilt and longing both fighting for space. 

Steve is at a complete loss of what to do, and so he does nothing.

(He’s afraid. Of making it even worse.)

Then, Colonel James Rhodes barges through the door like he’s on a mission to conquer the kitchen from Steve’s evil hands. 

“What happened.”

Steve swallows. Apparently, Rhodes’ wrath would now kill him before his own guilt could. 

“I...” He searches for the words to describe what he’s failed to justify to himself, and comes up with nothing. “Hasn’t Tony told you?”

Rhodes snorts. “Oh yeah, he’s told me alright. As much as he could, considering he was seconds away from passing out.”

Steve inhales. “Did he... ?”

“Drink?” Rhodes supplies sharply. “Yes. More than I’ve ever seen him drink in the last year. Care to explain?”

“I can’t,” Steve replies numbly.

The Colonel raises his eyebrows and waits.

Steve sighs. “I came here because I was worried. I didn’t want Tony to be alone.”

“I’m here,” Rhodes points out dryly. “And you haven’t exactly been good company recently.”

Steve lowers his eyes.

Rhodes is right, there’s no denying it. 

He hasn’t been the most healthy person for Tony to be around. 

(And it’s selfish, really, that he went and followed Tony to Washington anyway.)

“I know,” Steve says quietly.

Rhodes sighs. “Look, just... please just tell me you didn’t force him.”

Steve looks up abruptly. “No! I mean, he initiated it, but I know that I shouldn’t have let it happen anyhow. He was drunk.”

Rhodes eyes him. “That why you regret it?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. 

“Good. Tell him that.”

Steve stares at him. “What?”

“Tell him,” Rhodes repeats. “Because all he thinks right now is that you hate him.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again, remembering that first and foremost, Tony would always search for the mistake in himself.

Which also makes him painfully aware of the fact that they need to talk.

He stands up, and the Colonel steps aside to let him pass.

“He’s in the living room. Don’t fuck up even worse.”

“I won’t,” Steve says. (Because he can’t.)

Rhodey nods and Steve hurries down the hall. 

Tony isn’t quite sitting on the couch. He’s halfway slithered down to the ground, with his head lolled to the side. 

When Steve enters the room, he scrambles upwards.

“Steve!” He sways on his feet. “What, why are you...”

He blinks. 

Then, “Throwin’ me off the team now ‘s a bad idea. We still need to kill the ugly purple raisin.”

Steve stares at him. It takes a while for him to understand what Tony means, and then a few seconds more to realize why he’s assuming Steve is going to remove him from the team.

“Jesus, Tony,” he says. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

Tony frowns. 

“I came here to apologize.”

Tony takes a step back and shakes his head, like a confused animal. “Why? I know you regret it, you shouldn‘a gone back to a slut like me.”

Steve takes a deep breath. He’s no stranger to Tony’s insecurities, but knowing that this time, they’re his fault...

“You were - _are_ \- drunk. You weren’t able to consent, that’s why I regret it.”

Tony blinks at him. “So? ‘m barely sober anyway.”

Steve clenches his hands and has to resist the urge to close his eyes. He knows Tony has little to no sense of self-preservation, but this is taking it to a whole other level. 

“Also...” Tony goes on without indicating that he’s picking up any of Steve’s reactions. “Half the Universe is dead. Hardly matters.”

“Of course it matters,” Steve says sharply. 

But Tony shakes his head with such an empty look in his eyes that Steve feels like he’s at a complete loss. 

He used to be able to deal with Tony’s moods. He used to be able to help him.

Then it hits him like a brick.

“Tony, is Pepper...?”

Tony flinches. 

Then he sits back down on the couch and cries.

Steve has, in fact, made it worse. 

He almost wishes for Rhodes to come back and slap him, but then the Colonel probably wouldn’t let him see Tony for at least five days if he did and Steve wants to make this right. 

He kneels in front of Tony and carefully takes his hands. When Tony raises his head and looks at him, Steve speaks. Carefully.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Tony stares. “Last night, or...”

“Or in space,” Steve finishes for him, gently. “Whatever.”

Tony’s eyes fixate on a point behind him, and he’s silent for so long Steve begins to think he isn’t going to get an answer.

“I lost my kid,” he says, and his voice breaks. “Peter’s gone, and it’s my fault.”

Something sharp wedges itself into Steve’s heart, because while he might not know what Tony’s talking about, he does understand the severity of the pain that’s so raw in his voice. “Tony -“

“Don’t,” Tony chokes out. 

Swaying, he gets back on his feet, pushes Steve away and leaves the room.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Rhodey declares Tony sober enough, they leave for Wakanda. 

And, honestly, Tony’s all for getting as far away from Ross as physically possible, but that also means he gets to sit out several hours in their Quinjet next to Steve.

Steve being the second person he wants to get away from.

It’s bad enough that he got tipsy and had sex with Steve, Tony thinks as Washington disappears behind them. But the morning after, had to get completely wasted and start crying in front of him, all because he couldn’t handle the thought that Steve regretted him.

_Christ._

Steve, in all fairness, has stopped radiating discomfort and is now acting like nothing ever happened. 

Which would be Tony’s preferred plan of action, but he has a splitting headache and his stomach seems to be twisting in all sorts of possible directions.

So, forgetting unfortunately isn’t on the table, but he also can’t make himself look at Steve. 

If he did, everything would come rushing back. Last night as well as the years they’d had together before the Accords blew it all to hell.

And, fuck, he misses their relationship now more than ever.

Consequently, when they get back to Wakanda, he decides on the Tony Stark thing to do and flees.

He’s terrified, and he misses Steve so much it feels like there shouldn’t be any more room in his heart for the loneliness.

He’s losing everyone it seems, even if they’ve survived The Snap.

He’s glad for the fact that he doesn’t have east access to alcohol here in Wakanda, because knowing himself, he’d already be drunk if he did. 

(He’s been trying to drink less, because one day Peter had a minor freakout because he worried for Tony’s health - and that just wouldn’t do.)

So, instead of getting drunk, he spends what little is left of the day sitting on his bed and thinking about how much of an idiot he is.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when his grumbling stomach finally forces him to leave the room and go back to the common areas.

The kitchen is a cursed place though, or so it seems, because he meets Steve there, _again_.

Tony considers making a u-turn and running. His pride says no. His pounding heart says yes. 

He remains standing where he is. 

Steve stares at him as if he’s a fairy that just materialized in front of him. 

“Tony,” he whispers, and trails off. 

Tony makes his way towards the refrigerator when Steve says, “Who’s Peter?”

He freezes. 

Every muscle in his body seems to lock in its place. 

_Hey, I-I’m... I’m Peter._

God, he’d still been the innocent kid that Tony never was. 

And he’d dragged him away to _Titan_ and let him near _Thanos_ , and then-

_I don’t feel so good._

Peter didn’t even get the quick death like everyone else. Stupid kid with his stupid powers had tried... he had tried to hold on for as long as he could.

Tony folds into himself as the sharp knife of loss once again strikes him in between the ribs, and his breath escapes him. 

There’s not enough air in the room; his lungs refuse to obey to his command, and all around him, there’s this weird hum instead of what he was actually supposed to be hearing and -

He knows he’s having a panic attack. But he’s helpless to stop it.

He feels himself gasping in vain, feels his heart desperately try to keep up with his panic.

(All useless. Because Peter is _gone_.)

“Tony.”

Steve. Steve’s holding him by the shoulders.

“You need to breathe, come on.”

Tony tries. 

God, he tries. 

He can’t.

He can’t.

He -

“Tony, _please_. Follow my rhythm.”

Steve’s places one of Tony’s hands on his chest.

And suddenly, Tony can. 

Breath after careful breath, the world gets sharper around him again.

And finally, he can see Steve’s face in front of him. 

They’re sitting on the kitchen floor, next to the refrigerator.

“You with me?” Steve asks gently.

“Yeah,” Tony rasps. 

They remain like that for what feels like ages. Steve is a silent, steady presence next to him; one hand around his shoulders, the older holding Tony’s palm to his chest. 

Tony is grateful for the silence. It’s easier to accept what Steve’s doing for him.

(Almost too easy; too easy to pretend nothing ever happened between them.)

“Thank you,” Tony finally says.

Steve’s eyes are open, unguarded. “I’m sorry, Tony. I shouldn’t have asked.”

But Tony shakes his head, suddenly overcome with the need to make sure Steve would remember know Peter for the hero he ~~_was_~~ is.

“No, it’s okay, he -“ 

(He has to take a moment to _breathe_ , steel himself for this conversation.)

“He’s Spider-Man.”

Steve’s fingers rub soothing circles on his back. “The guy from Queens?”

Tony frowns. “You know him?”

“From Germany,” Steve says. “We had a moment to talk. He seemed like a lovely kid.”

“He was.” Tony fights down the lump in his throat. “He- When he got his powers, he was running around in a onesie. A _onesie_ , can you believe that? Just ‘cause he was trying to help people.”

Steve chuckles. “Good thing you showed up then.”

Tony tenses. “Steve,” he chokes out, and can’t help the words tumbling out of his mouth. “He was with me on that ship and I didn’t... I brought him to Titan.”

“He disappeared,” Steve whispers, his fingers never wavering in their calm path across his back. “Didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks.

“None of us had any influence on who disappeared and who didn’t.” Steve’s voice is calm and self-assured. “It’s not your fault.”

Tony feels a few lone tears slip down his cheeks. “He was a child. I did my best to keep him safe, I taught him how to fight, I built him a suit that would always get him back home, but it wasn’t enough. Steve, it wasn’t, I wasn’t _enough_.”

A sob wrenches itself out of his throat, and before he can even feel embarrassed, he’s being pressed against Steve’s chest.

It should feel wrong, after two years.

“He was better than all of us,” Tony whispers and buries his head in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. 

And Steve holds him, for the entire night.

 

* * *

 

It gets better, after that day. 

Steve knows he’s not even close to begin to comprehend what Peter’s death cost Tony. He doesn’t even comprehend what exactly Peter meant to Tony.

But he knows Tony’s hurting, and Tony’s now accepting his comfort instead of flinching away. 

(At night, Tony will wordlessly slip under the covers with him, his eyes wide and haunted, and Steve will wrap his arms around him and pull him close.)

(Sometimes, they will trade leisure kisses, apologies and promises they can’t keep.)

(It feels like a giant bubble, ready to burst.)

(And burst it does.)

 

* * *

 

 

A few weeks later, they’re ready for battle.

 

* * *

 

The guilt has filled him up with so much energy that Tony is just about ready to throw the plan to hell and go kill Thanos with his bare hands.

But that’s how they got into this mess in the first place, so he doesn’t. He listens and agrees to the plan like he’s supposed to. (At least for now.)

When he wakes up that day, he thinks of one too many teenage romance movies that he’s been forced to see. How in almost every one of them, there’s the scene of the heroine and her love interest sharing a last intimate moment before going into battle. 

It feels like that, this morning in Steve’s arms. 

One side of him hates himself for not getting up, for wanting to preserve the moment for as long as he can. Whatever he has going on with Steve, it’s not as important as getting Peter back. 

The other side of him has been lonely for too long.

Steve’s breath is warm on his neck. Tony can tell he’s slowly waking up.

He almost feels sorry for him, for them both, because this is most likely the last night they’re ever going to get.

“Good morning,” Steve murmurs and draws him closer.

Tony shudders and revels in how safe he feels.

“Did you sleep?” Steve asks, because he knows him too well.

“Terribly,” Tony replies. “You?”

Steve’s hand around Tony’s chest tightens its grip. “Nightmare,” he whispers. “I lost you.”

Tony says nothing, because there’s no use in lying now. There’s no way they’ll both come back from this. 

He turns until he’s facing Steve, and kisses him. 

Steve responds in kind, frames Tony’s face with his hands and moves against his lips ever so softly. 

 _I love you._  

The thought comes to Tony as natural as breathing.

It’s almost painful to hold the words back.

(He doesn’t want to say it like this. After two years of silence, Steve deserves better than that.)

“I don’t like it,” Steve murmurs into his skin. “We should be fighting together.”

Tony resists the urge to shift nervously. Steve was right; for the upcoming battle, they’d be in different groups - him trying to kill Thanos, and Steve trying to destroy the gauntlet once they get it form Thanos and bring back all the lives that were lost.

Nebula insisted; some bullshit about how Strange has given up the stone for him, so obviously he must be an essential part in killing the Mad Titan. 

_(“He’s strong,” Nebula said, and Tony couldn’t have disagreed more.)_

Then Natasha decided they needed a leader for the second group, and it all came down to this. 

In bed, with Steve’s arm wrapped around him and the certainty that all their words were too little too late.

“We have to kill Thanos,” Tony says, and his voice doesn’t tremble, it _doesn’t_. “This is the best way to go about it.”

Steve sighs. “I know. I guess I just...”

He trails off, pushes back what he wants to say, like they’ve been doing for the last two years. 

Tony can’t think about it anymore. His life is laying in shambles, and he knows there’s nothing he can do about it. 

So he focuses on what he _can_ do. 

“You have to promise me something.”

Steve frowns. 

(Almost suspiciously.)

“Keep Peter safe.”

Steve’s expression turns to stone. “Tony...”

Tony gently puts a finger on his lips to silence him. “Listen to me.” 

Steve watches him intensely, seems to search for something, then relaxes. 

“If- When we get them back, watch out for him. He’s, he’s going to be scared and if I, if I can’t -“ His voice breaks.

But Steve seems to understand anyhow. 

“I will,” he whispers, heavily. “Tony, I will.”

Tony’s throat constricts.

He tries to find words to thank Steve, but fails. 

So he kisses him, and Steve tastes of salt.

 

* * *

 

 

“Someone get to Nat, she needs help!”

Steve slams his shield into the alien in front of him. “I’m on my way.”

 _Of course_ Thanos brought an army with him. They’d expected it, even prepared for it, with Natasha building an army of former SHIELD recruits, Wakandan warriors and everyone else she could get her hands on. Hell, they even found Clint and Scott.

And yet, they’re barely holding their ground.

Steve pushes his way through the battlefield, walks over bodies of both friends and foes until he’s made it to where the Black Widow has been crowded against rocks by four of the alien animal-creatures. 

Steve rips one of them away from her with his hands and sends in a punch with his sword. The others catch up and turn towards him; Natasha takes advantage of their backs being turned to get and beheads two of them. Steve quickly finishes the last one.

They both take a minute to breathe, and Steve’s eyes fly across the battlefield worriedly. 

“It’s not looking good,” Natasha says matter-of-factly.

Steve refuses to look at the woods, to which Nebula had lured Thanos. It was a trap, of course, with Tony, Thor, Scott and Rhodes waiting within the trees. If their plan of attack had worked like it was supposed to, Rhodes would’ve flown the gauntlet out of there ages ago. 

_“We need a plan of attack!” -_ _“I have a plan: attack.”_

(Tony’s always been so good at improvising.)

“We have to keep going until they’ve got the stones,” he tells Natasha, because he’s not thinking about the _what if._

Natasha eyes him and he knows she can see right through him. 

“If they need backup, they’ll say so,” she says with the calm assurance one needs to have to rely on teammates. 

Suddenly, Steve’s glad for Rhodey, Scott and Thor, because Tony would never call for help on his own. 

And then there’s a whole pack of aliens running towards them and their conversation gets cut off. 

Natasha’s words of comfort are almost empty; and it becomes apparent as time drags on and they struggle more and more to hold Thanos’ army back. Steve’s not sure of they’d even be capable of sending reinforcements if the others needed it. 

(He feels so tired, of always fighting a fight that already seems to be lost.)

Their lines are being pushed back, closer and closer towards the woods, where Tony so desperately needs them to keep the aliens away. 

And then, War-Machine comes hurtling towards them. Not _flying_ like he should be, but flat-out falling, the thrusters of his suit weakly twitching. 

“Someone’s gotta catch him!” Steve yells into the comms before he’s being slammed into the ground by one of the aliens. 

Luckily, they have a Hulk this time, and Hulk jumps and catches Rhodey like he weighs nothing. They crash into the grass just a few meters away from Steve. 

The shockwave sends his attackers flying away from him, and Steve hurries to get on his feet and to Rhodey. 

The grey metal suit is unmoving, and the Colonel unresponsive, but Steve knows he doesn’t have the luxury to check if he’s even still alive. Instead, in what is probably the heaviest split-second decision in his life, he rips the gauntlet from Rhodes’ rigid hands and puts it on himself.

They actually don’t have a plan on how exactly to bring back those billions of lives - they only know that the soul stone inside the gauntlet is their best shot, and whoever was closest to it would have the responsibility to try. So, Steve doesn’t know what he’s doing, and even worse, the second the gold metal slides onto his right hand, he knows that the stones are powerful enough to get even the strongest of minds to crumble and bend. 

He has to be quick. 

The soul stone is glowing innocently on his knuckle, and Steve concentrated on it as best as he can and snaps his fingers. 

It’s like he’s flipped the mightiest switch in the universe. 

It’s like the universe shakes for a second.

Then, all around him, aliens as well as warriors appear out of nowhere, most of them still confused. 

Steve wants nothing more than to give them time to recover and rest, but that’s a luxury he can’t afford right now.

“Everyone attack and push Thanos’ army away from the woods,” he tells into the comms. “We can’t let them get the advantage.”

“Copy that,” Bucky says and Steve’s legs almost give out in relief. “As long as you tell us the whole story later.”

“Yeah you might wanna sit down for that,” Steve replies grimly. 

There are more Wakandan warriors appearing around him than aliens, and to his astonishment, it doesn’t take them long to regroup and charge into battle. All the questions are pushed back for later, and Steve is as relieved as he feels impressed.

With their combined forces, they manage to turn the tide; force Thanos army further away from the forest and surround them, until they’ve got all of the aliens either dead on in their control. 

(But they still haven’t heard from Tony or Thor or Nebula - at this point it’s likely that their communicators are being blocked somehow, and Rhodey is unresponsive -)

It all goes well and according to plan; Sam flies the gauntlet to Bucky and Wanda, who will be working to destroy the stones for good. Everyone who is resurrected fights alongside them immediately.

And then, just as they’re blasting the last of the aliens, a giant portal opens directly next to Steve and stumbling out comes probably the weirdest group he’s ever seen. 

A guy with a weird masks and repulsor blasts on his shoes, a screaming man with a naked, blue torso and a woman with what looks like antennas growing right out of their head. 

The guy with the mask points a gun at him. “You with Thanos?” 

“No,” Steve says and forces himself not to stare too obnoxiously.

The guy nods at him and they take off to attack what little is left of Thanos’ army. 

Then, a tall man in a red cape walks through the portal, practically carrying a young boy with him. And Steve has to do a double take, because it’s been two years since he’s seen any version of that suit, but the spider on his chest leaves no doubt to who it is.

(He almost wants it to be someone else, with the way Peter’s shaking and crying.)

Doctor Strange closes the portal to Titan; Steve guesses his name from what Bruce has told him. Unfortunately, that also eradicates any doubt that the boy really is Peter. 

_Watch out for him._

Steve takes a hesitant step towards them both. “Peter?”

Strange frowns at him. “You know him?”

“Sort of,” Steve says, failing to bring up a real explanation. “Tony asked me to look out for him.”

Peter raises his head, and his eyes are filled with tears. “Capt’n?”

Steve hurries to his side before he even realizes what his legs are doing. “I’m here.” He takes Peter’s hands in his, tries to ground him. 

“I was dead,” Peter whispers. “There was dust everywhere and then I died, and I can’t -“

“Peter,” Steve cuts in, gently, steadily. “We brought everyone back. You’re alive.”

Peter blinks and his expression clears so fast it almost gives Steve a whiplash.

“Where’s Tony?”

It’s spoken with the innocent hope of a child asking for their parent. 

Steve swallows and stares at the woods in front of them.

 

* * *

 

 

It only takes a well timed hit with the power stone, and Rhodey’s suit shuts down. 

Their communicators have long been rendered useless, and they’ve got pretty everything else in their plan failing as well.

Tony’s fed up, plainly speaking. 

So when they finally get the gauntlet off of the titans hands and Nebula keeps him occupied, Tony just forces the metal of Rhodey’s suit to bend around it. Then, he pushes his old friend towards Thor, yelling, “Hit him!” and the god blasts him into the sky with everything he’s got.

(They didn’t have the time to figure out something less risky, but Tony can practically see the pile of guilt growing in his chest.)

Thanos isn’t happy about it either. 

“Stupid mortals,” he growls, swinging at them with his fist. “I have a _vision_.”

“Yeah,” Tony snaps, feeling the anger build in him all over again. “We had one too. Until you _murdered_ him, you -“

His suit’s taken considerable damage, he he can’t fly as fast as he’d like and his faceplate isn’t fully closing anymore, but damn it if he’s gonna let that stop him. 

“Careful, Stark,” Nebula says. “Even without the stones, he’s way more powerful than you.”

Tony just snorts.

Thor is currently hovering several meters above their heads, his axe sizzling with lightning bolts. He’s the only one of them that has an unmistakable chance at killing Thanos, with wielding Stormbreaker and all, but Thanos seems to be aware of that as well, and has always kept the god at a safe distance to his head. 

They need to distract him if they want to grant Thor a chance, and they can’t exactly use their communicators to form a plan. 

Tony’s already firing up the next wave of explosives in his suit as Nebula nods at him, and he just _hopes_ that she’s had the same thought.

Thor shoots go higher into the air, and Nebula jumps towards Thanos so rapidly, he has to follow her with his eyes and turn his back to Thor. She dodged his fist and jumps, knife steady in her hand, but Thanks whirls around, grabs her right out of the air and throws her a good few feet. 

Tony charges. 

The first few bombs hit Thanos effortlessly, with Tony flying in a safe distance, but then the titan lunges after him - fucking hell, Tony didn’t even know he was able to run - and gets a hand around Tony’s left leg. 

Tony addresses FRIDAY with some colorfully worded commands, but with the suit compromised as it is, he doesn’t have the power to break free. 

The world’s most effective nano-technology based short-range rockets though, that’s what he does have. 

He sees Peter’s eyes in front of him, huge and terrified, and finally feels calm at the memory, because he’s about to make everything right again. 

He fires everything he’s got, and it blows up right between him and the Titan.

He’s unconscious before even touching the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve doesn’t know what to say to this kid, and before he can figure it out, the earth beneath them starts to shake. 

A giant ball of smoke and fire erupts, not far from where they’re standing.

Chills wrack Steve’s body, because that’s the forest, that’s where Tony is, and just as the explosion has settled, Thor dives in from seemingly out of nowhere and disappears in the smoke. 

“Where’s Tony?” Peter asks again, voice small. 

Steve stares at Strange. He’s never thought of himself as particularly bad with kids, but all of a sudden, he feels helpless. 

Meanwhile, all of the systems inside of him are screaming to get to Tony.

Strange eyes him, calculatingly. “Take him,” he says briskly. 

Steve doesn’t catch up quickly enough, but it’s an order, so he follows. 

He wraps his arm around Peter, lets him lean on his chest and Strange immediately leaves through a portal that lets him see burning trees on the other side. 

When the portal closes, Peter tenses up. 

Steve knows that the kid’s most likely pushing through the confusion and would be going into panic any second if he didn’t get an answer to his question. But then again, answer to his question would probably do the same thing.

“Peter,” Steve says, pushing through his own worry with brutal force. “Do you know what happened?”

He can barely see his face with the way Peter is clinging to him, but he does feel his shaking. 

“I didn’t want to go,” Peter whispers. “And Tony, he couldn’t...” 

He took a heaving breath. 

“That’s right,” Steve murmurs soothingly. “But we brought you all back. You’re in Wakanda now, it’s all going to be okay.”

Peter raises his head and stares at him, like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Mr. .... Mr. America?”

“Steve’s fine,” Steve says, and his voice almost breaks. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Peter’s blinks confusedly, like he can’t quite make sense of what he’s saying. 

Steve can’t blame him; it wouldn’t be surprising if the kid went into shock, with everything that’s happened to him.

“Yeah,” he finally murmurs. “Me too, I mean, Tony always-“

He trails off, and suddenly, the panic is back. 

“Steve, what...?”

And then Thor comes running out of the woods, carrying Tony in his arms. 

Steve is up and running before he can even think about it, and Peter is right beside him. 

The whole left half of Tony’s suit has been ripped off, and there’s blood all over what’s left of it. Tony’s fave is pale and unmoving.

Thor doesn’t stop walking, but Steve has no problem matching his pace. 

His hands shake and reach out for Tony almost on their own accord, before he remembers himself. 

“What’s the situation?” He keep his voice cool and controlled instead of shrieking Tony’s name like Peter’s doing. (He has to be the strong one now, he can’t let his fear for Tony take over, he _promised_.)

Strange, who’s followed Thor’s step effortlessly, is running diagnostics as they go. 

“He has a few open wounds but none of them are life threatening. With him being in the middle of the explosion there will be blunt-force trauma to his organs, especially internal bleeding. He needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible.”

Steve knows Wakanda can heal bullet wounds in a day, but he also knows that every technology has its limits.

Tony’s face looks so pale and Steve’s hands won’t stop shaking.

“They have a medical center here,” he says hollowly, pointing at a building that seems so, so far away. “Ask for Shuri, she’ll know what to do.”

Strange nods curtly and opens another portal, this one directly to the medical bay. Thor and Strange go first, Steve and Peter follow as if hypnotized. 

The whole building is already open and swarming with doctors as well as patients. It is chaotic, and Steve’s never really been here save from getting checked for injuries after the first battle. 

Peter immediately starts yelling. 

“Help! Somebody help, please!” 

People move out of their way, and Steve can’t blame them with the way Peter’s voice breaks and dissolves into sobs. 

“Follow me!” Shuri appears on the other end of the room and Steve’s knees almost crash with how fast they’re moving forward again, hurrying down a hallway until Shuri takes a turn and orders Thor to lay Tony down on a metal stretcher.

She immediately starts tapping away on her machinery, so of course Steve has no idea what any of those screens mean, if it’s good or bad, if Tony’s gonna come back to him and his face is _so pale..._

“You’re a doctor, right?” Shuri says while scanning Tony, without even leaving looking up.

“Yes,” Strange says. “But my hands won’t let me perform surgeries anymore.”

She nods. “You can stay. The rest, please wait outside until we’re done.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Peter says immediately.

Steve’s been at this point way too often. And he knows Shuri wouldn’t ask them to leave unless the circumstances are critical enough to demand it.

“Come on,” he whispers, gently curling a hand around Peter’s arm. “We should let them work.”

But Peter shakes his head frantically. “No, no I can’t go, _I don’t want to go!_ ”

He breaks down again, and it’s heartbreakingly easy for Steve to tug him away from Tony and out of the door, all the while Peter keeps pleading with him.

But Steve made a promise.

So he carries on, Tony’s plea in his ears, and holds Peter when he breaks down on the other side of the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve has often wondered what made Tony decide to take in a teenager. 

He has way too much time to do that now, sat next to Peter on a giant couch. 

He doesn’t even know where they are exactly; everything’s been a blur since he saw Thor carry Tony out of the woods. 

All he knows is that somewhere in this building, Tony is fighting for his life and Steve might never get to ask all of the questions that are burning on his tongue.

Next to him, Peter is shaking. The tears have stopped about half an hour ago, but that doesn’t fool Steve into thinking he’s okay. 

Steve used to assume he’s good with kids, but now, with this particular kid, he feels way out of his head. 

(For all Steve knows, he’s Tony’s, and so, he _can’t_ screw this up.)

“Peter?” He asks gently.

The teenager’s head snaps up, as if he wasn’t even aware Steve’s still sitting next to him. 

“Tony’s going to be okay. If there’s anywhere they could save him, it’s here.”

Peter lowers his eyes. “I have to... I didn’t even get to tell him that...”

He falters, and his voice sounds as if someone’s strangled him. 

“Tony knows he’s important to you,” Steve says softly. 

But Peter shakes his head. “I didn’t get to tell him that it wasn’t his fault,” he whispers.

Steve’s heart clenches painfully. 

He doesn’t need to ask what Peter means. He also can’t tell him that Tony knew that it wasn’t his fault.

Peter inhales sharply, and it seems like the words are tumbling right out of his mouth. “Tony, he- I screwed up a mission, once, and he told me that if I died, he’d feel responsible.”

A full-body tremor wrecks Peter’s body. 

“I know Tony often blames himself,” Steve replies carefully. “Which is why I told him it wasn’t his fault.”

Peter stares at him in confusion, almost shock. “You did?”

Steve does his best to smile. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t get to see Peter’s reaction to that though, because right in that moment, Shuri enters the room.

Peter and Steve both jump to their feet. 

It’s been several hours, and Shuri and Strange both look exhausted, but they lack the pitying glint in their eyes that always prevails bad news like this.

“He’s alive,” is the first thing Shuri says, which is good, because the tension immediately leaves Peter’s body. “He has a few open wounds, fractures and tearing to his organs, but that should heal within a few days.”

“However,” Strange cuts in sternly. “His head wasn’t sufficiently protected against the blast, so right now we’re dealing with severe swelling in his brain. There’s nothing we can do except hope it’ll go down in the next 48 hours.”

Steve swallows. “And if it doesn’t?”

Strange looks right at him, with all the cold professionalism a world-renowned surgeon has to have. “The pressure inside his skull will cause damage and he will be brain dead soon after.”

Peter seems to be completely frozen next to him, so Steve gently places a hand on his shoulder and asks “Can we see him?”

Shuri nods and leads them down to a room in which Tony is laying on a metal spreader, clad in plain, grey pyjamas and all sorts of data running on the wall behind him. 

It almost seems like he’s just sleeping peacefully. But his face is still so, so pale, and Steve knows that if he were to lift up the shirt just an inch he’d see bandages.

Peter crashes on a seat next to the bed, and Steve sits down beside him in silence.

Peter knows what he’d say to Tony, Steve thinks dully, and hates the fact that there’s so much they still haven’t told each other that he can’t even pick one. 

So he sits there, and _doesn’t_ think about that, or he kid sitting next to him, and tries to commit Tony Stark’s face to memory. 

After a while, Bruce enters the room, but when Steve quietly gives him an update of Tony’s status, he turns a little green in the eyes and leaves. 

Steve can’t blame him. The poor guy came back to the Avengers torn apart and now one of them is dangling on a thread.

Time trickles by, and it could’ve been the next day for all Steve knew, when the door opens again. Shuri slides inside the room and begins to check on the readings displayed on the wall. 

Steve looks up, and sees Bucky standing in the hallway, looking at him in concern. 

“It’s been seven hours,” is the first thing he says. 

Steve blinks at him. 

“Since the battle ended,” he clarifies. “We won, by the way. Which doesn’t mean you’re allowed to self-destruct.”

He’s probably right with what he’s saying, at least the tiredness in Steve’s bones says so, but the thought of leaving Tony’s side makes him anxious.

Bucky looks past him into the room and frowns. “Wait, who’s that?”

Steve follows his glance to where Peter is slumped in his seat. “Oh that, that’s Peter, he’s with Tony. Kind of.”

Bucky stares at him. Steve almost expects him to ask questions, but he merely says, “Then it’s probably not healthy for him to be sitting here the whole time.”

Steve knows what his old friend is trying to do, but finds it hard to care. He’s right, after all, and Steve made a promise.

“Fine.” He sighs. “I’m gonna get him out of here.”

“And then you’re gonna get some rest as well,” Bucky says sternly. “You’re no help to Tony like this.”

Steve feels so tried that he simply nods.

Shuri finishes scanning Tony just as Steve returns.

“Anything?” He asks, but Shuri shakes her head.

“His condition hasn’t changed,” she says. “But he’s stable for now.”

“Thank you,” Steve answers, and she nods at him with a small smile. 

Once Shuri has left, he tentatively stands next to Peter and lays a hand on his shoulder to alert him of Steve’s presence.

“You tired?”

Peter shakes his head.

Steve hadn’t expected him to be. 

“You heard her, Peter. Tony’s stable for now. You should get rest.”

Peter shakes his head again. “I can’t. What if he...”

He apparently can’t bring himself to say it, and Steve can’t blame him. 

“There’s nothing any of us can do. And you’re no good to him if you don’t take care of yourself.” Steve speaks carefully, knowing that in the state Peter’s in, he would get upset quickly. 

Peter tenses anyhow. “You don’t understand,” he says, still quietly, but with an edge to his voice. “Tony needs me, I can’t just, _leave._ ”

 _Hell_ , Steve doesn’t want to leave Tony either. But he has to be the adult, the responsible one, and he’s been in this job for way too long. 

“I know how you feel.” Because he does, he really does. “But Tony wouldn’t want you to do this.”

Peter gets up so abruptly Steve takes a step back.

“And how would you know that?” Peter hisses, glaring at him. “You weren’t there the past two years!”

Steve flinches. The words impale themselves in his chest like a knife, and he can’t even defend himself, because they’re true. 

“Tony asked me to look out for you,” he replies quietly. “And it’s obvious that he cares for you.”

Peter stares at him for a second longer, then all he anger seems to bleed out of him and his shoulders slump. 

“I don’t even know where I’m supposed to go.”

Steve smiles in relief. “Don’t worry, we’ll sort that out.”

 

* * *

 

 

He brings Peter to the Avenger’s quarters and leaves him in one of the spare rooms. 

(He considered, just for a moment, if he should let Peter have Tony’s room, but he couldn’t make himself go through with it.)

Steve tells him to go shower and put on some clean clothes, and Peter walks away with a vacant look in his eyes. 

Steve goes and does the same thing, showers and puts on clean clothes, goes to find food and gets Bucky to update him on the rest of the team.

(Wanda and Sam were back and well, and save for Rhodey, nobody else had any severe injuries. It does little to calm his nerves.)

All the while, his thoughts circle around Tony and he’s helpless to stop it. 

He never thought he’d regret his choice regarding the Accords, and he still doesn’t, but there’s so much he regrets not telling Tony. 

_I’m sorry I wasn’t there in the past two years._

_I shouldn’t have left you like that in Siberia._

_..._

_I’m sorry about your parents._

And god, it hurts more than he likes to admit. 

Now that Tony’s unconscious, it seems like the words that were once so hard to come by have always been right in from of him. 

 _I’ll tell him_ , Steve thinks, and hates himself as he does, because it’s all too little too late, _I’ll tell him as soon as he wakes up._  

Knowing Tony, the damage is already done. And as it is, he’s on a small metal cot fighting for his life and Steve might never get to say any of it in the first place. 

He still vows to make everything right again, and feels more like a hypocrite than during his days as Captain America the actor. 

He’s sitting in their kitchen, staring emptily at a plate of bread, when Peter walks in.

He looks better, with the blood and the dust off his face and in normal clothes, even though his eyes are red-rimmed. 

“You should eat,” Steve says, even though he’s done nothing but stare at the foot for the past thirty minutes. 

To his surprise, Peter just nods and sits down. He reachers for a piece of bread and starts nibbling on it.

“Are you...” Steve falters, doesn’t know if it’s appropriate to ask, but does so anyway, “Are you upset with me?”

Peter stares at him warily. 

“You left,” he finally whispers, almost too quiet for Steve to hear. “And Mr. Stark, I mean Tony, he... He didn’t talk to me at first, see? But then he did, and I started to be around him more and- ”

He trails off, seems to steel himself, then looks right at Steve. 

He shudders involuntarily. There’s no real threat in the kid’s eyes, but there’s heartbreak and anger and love for someone who’s slipping away from him.

“I noticed I never really saw him go to sleep. And he told me, he told me he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing-”

Peter can’t finish his words again, and there’s tears pooling in his eyes. 

Steve’s almost glad. He doesn’t want to hear how that sentence would’ve ended.

“He never really told me, but he was feeling really bad.” Peter swallows, looks at him accusingly. “You hurt him.”

Steve knew he did, but it’s different, hearing it from the kid who’s been at Tony’s side when he wasn’t. 

(And it hurts just that much more.)

“I know I did,” he says heavily. “And I’m sorry. I’m going to tell him that, I promise.”

Peter’s hands clutch the bread so tightly a few crumbs fall onto the kitchen table. “You better,” he mumbles quietly.

It’s not forgiveness, but Steve knows a truce when he sees one. 

“Can you try to sleep? I’ll tell you if anything happens with Tony, I promise.”

Peter eyes him for a moment, but seems to find whatever he’s searching for. He nods, and whispers a “Thank you” as well as “Tony would want you to sleep too though”. 

Steve can’t help the smile forming on his face at the earnestness in Peter’s voice. 

_You have to come back to us, Tony. Peter’s just like you described._

 

* * *

 

 

_Please come back to us._

* * *

 

 

The pressure on Tony’s brain goes down just two hours before it would have been critical.   
He wakes up a couple of days later, with Peter and Steve by his side.


End file.
